Chasing the Darkest Light
by Miss-Evening
Summary: Blackice/RotG - Over three and a half years since Pitch's defeat, Jack finds out that the King of Nightmares is weak and repeatedly tortured by his nightmares. It is now up to Jack and Pitch, to fight together side by side, and restore the nightmares and fearlings to their former master. But how far is Jack willing to go, to fight for what is right?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Like a Sharp Fragment of a Broken Mirror**

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><p><strong>Trigger warning:<strong> Death- and suicide mention.

Although no death or suicide is taking place in this chapter, it is heavily mentioned. Read at your own risk.

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><p>The wind always carried him firmly and with grace, as he sailed along its waves, light as a feather. He was free as a bird, and he'd been able to fly for as long as he could remember. It was a part of him, a part of his very soul, and he found it hard to imagine a life without this superb ability. That was something he usually didn't invest time to ruminate over, but he was indeed thankful, for being able to easily travel all around the world and back as he pleased.<p>

Yes, free as a bird, there was no cage for him; no boundaries for his freedom.

The immortal was also gifted with the great, outstanding powers to control the wind and the cold weather, with the help of his magical, wooden staff. From the very first cool, deep breath he'd inhaled, as he had been revived by the Man in the Moon, the boy had used and developed his talents to the altogether fullest, composing the best out of it.

And while his wonderful creations did affect the world for the better, granting children with bright, cheerful and fun snow days to look back on and treasure, no one... simply no one had ever believed in him.

He had been invisible to the mankind for a very, very long time.

And although a myth was occasionally mentioned among the humans through generations, about a spirit named Jack Frost, nobody had ever seriously considered believing in his existence.

So for Jack, a supernatural boy, who had spent decades and centuries bringing light and joy into children's young, pure and innocent hearts, sensed that no matter what he accomplished, he would never personally receive anything in return.

Jack could only cherish granting happiness to others.

Only give... and give... and give...

But never anything left for himself.

Never for him in person.

Nothing left for him.

No affection, and no love... and he feared...

He feared so much, that it would always be nothing.

Completely nothing.

Just himself, all alone for an eternity.

Jack's greatest fear was that he would always, forever on be alone, with just the wind, the cold, and the winter. And himself. Only.

The snow and ice combined together with such beauty... both with, and within him. The enchanting, freezing winter living inside his ardent, golden heart, these powers running with the blood through his veins.

Yet, this beauty could never be enough for him to feel... whole.

He knew he never would, as he envied the mortal human lives from afar.

Yet still, so close...

He envied their freedom to be seen, acknowledged, without this... this curse of being invisible.

His freedom was not the equivalent. Jack craved the freedom of the humans.

Of course, he wasn't the only immortal entity living on Earth, but the other spirits had never established any interest or concern in the pale and slender, white-haired boy. They were all too engaged with their own lives; activities, duties, friends, partners and families. All too absorbed in their own ego and vital universe, to pass just one sole suggestion... just one petite pinch of solicitude, of whether or not the Spirit of Winter felt isolated and outcast.

Everyone was flat out indifferent, even avoiding and opposing his company, and when Jack tried several times throughout his life to benignly approach contact, everyone mocked, scolded, degraded and pushed him away.

Discriminating, and giving him the cold hand.

The difference between them, and the mortal humans, was that they certainly knew about his existence, but would never rightfully value and respect him for who he is.

Jack Frost was notorious among the spirits, for being a wild and erratic troublemaker, making a mess wherever he went. But they never gave him a chance! It wasn't fair! While his powers did cause a lot of troubles and dangers, since he also did enjoy playing pranks on the humans, why couldn't they just see all the sensational usage, charm and wonder of his skills? Why couldn't they for once, just give him a single, little chance?!

Jack could never understand the immortals, and they'd never permitted an opportunity to understand him.

Simply no one ever cared.

He could certainly feel, no, guarantee, that the entities looked down upon him imperiously, as a worthless, ominous and repulsive prick. A plain and feral weather phenomenon without authority, and that nobody wanted him around.

Nobody.

No one.

No one ever wanted him.

No one ever took acknowledge of him.

No one ever accepted him.

No one ever... loved him.

No one ever cared.

It was just Jack Frost himself, the wind, the powers of the icy winter... and the loneliness.

And the loneliness... a dark and hollow pain, that hurt even more than the deepest wounds.

A pain Jack knew all too well.

There had been numerous times at the origin of his immortal life, when he had entirely let his emotions take over him, his self-restraint and sanity. With chilly tears streaming down his pale cheeks, he had screamed and yelled in pure agony and hysteria at the big, luminous moon, till his voice got all raucous and frail. Desperately pleading, with the most heartrending, quivering outcries... for just a little sign! The dark night sky and the radiant stars reflecting in his soaking wet, ocean blue eyes, while begging... begging on his bare knees for just... anything!

Just anything, that would explain to him why no one ever believed in him, why nobody ever wanted to be with him... and why he was chosen, to be who he is.

Why did this gift have to be tied with such a ruthless, harrowing curse?!

Why?!

Why him?!

Yet the moon still remained so silent, only offering Jack a comforting light.

But that beaming light could never fully heal his sorrow.

And while he was conscious that the Man in the Moon watched over him, Jack had always felt a black, raw and empty hole deeply rooted inside his heart.

Despite the happy face he had put up with for three centuries, in addition to the all the fun he had bestowed to the youth of the humanity with his brilliant winter... crying his heart out occurred frequently for him. Not every night did he cry, and not as often as in the beginning of his immortal life. Though when he did, it was solely during the darkest hours from dusk to dawn, when he could allow himself to respire his loud, shivering wails and sobs, shedding countless of his tears.

Seeing how the humans around him grew up throughout time, and went through various stages of life, with family, friends, and loved ones...

Jack hungered for it.

Oh, how he'd hungered to be seen and accepted!

But the more he starved, the more the fear and anxiety came oozing through his mind, scratching at his sanity, and piercing his heart over and over again, like an intoxicated spear. The inky poison challenging him to let go, into madness; a hypnotizing darkness, whispering menacingly to him in the shadows, tantalizing him to give in to the morbid dread.

There had been many incidents during Jack's lifetime, when he'd been downright urged to surrender to the fear. Or even go so far, as to commit suicide. He had attempted taking his own life several times.

Let go of his staff, dive off the edge, head-first from a lofty, steep and lethal cliff.

Tie a rope, put it around his neck, jump down from a branch, and hang himself in a dreary tree.

Get a gun, inhale till his lungs were full, and discharge a bullet through his temple.

Just let go, let it all end!

_" LET GO!_

_LET GO!_

_LET GO!_

_LET IT ALL END!_

_MAKE IT STOP!_

_STOP!_

_STOP!_

_STOP!"_

However... no matter how much Jack had so acutely, by standing on the verge of life and death, and desired to just give his mind loose reins... somewhere, profound in his common sense... he... he couldn't do it.

He couldn't.

It said stop.

Stop Jack.

Stop.

And apparently, that block was all that was essential for him to not implode.

Because as long as that small... very small, but vigorously shining light of hope kept burning like a fire inside his heart, chest and soul, Jack never gave up having a purpose in life; a meaning to carry on, live and exist.

And so, he spent his life entirely to bring snow days, cause mischief and fun times... for the sake of the humans.

For the sake of the children.

It was this light that made Jack smile, laugh, and enjoy life, despite the everlasting pit of agony never diminishing inside of him.

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><p>After 300 long years, his life got a genuine and overwhelming change. The Man in the Moon announced to the Guardians of Childhood, that Jack Frost had been chosen as the new Guardian. And together they had defeated <span>Pitch<span> Black, the King of Nightmares, their vile enemy; who had planned to take over and conquer the world with fear, darkness and endless nightmares.

And Jamie... dear Jamie Bennett, he was the first child to ever believe in Jack. In fact, that was the first time in Jack's life, when he had experienced a true, bright, inner happiness and peace. He loved and cared for Jamie very much, just like a little brother.

Just in the same way he had with his long gone sister.

Jamie reminded Jack of her. So full of youth, hope and imagination. The young boy even... looked a lot like her. The same shade of chestnut brown eyes, full of life, warmth and fair kindness.

Now being the Guardian of Fun_,_ Jack still took his job seriously; a serious job of having fun! As soon as the winter finally came, so did the snow, ice and cold. And he took his best efforts into producing snowfall and blizzards over several countries, and all the continents of the world.

He had discovered that hard work also gave positive outcome with time, and slowly, but steadily, children began believing in him, which also made his powers even stronger! Well, he wasn't remarkably stronger, but he had started to ponder and investigate, if it was just him... or did his hands become capable of creating bigger frost patterns?

Jack began to sincerely hope, that one day so many children would believe in him, that he would be able to make it snow by just having a quick thought of the white, frosty powder falling down from the sky. That he would be able to fly really, really fast across different provinces, making it snow in galore with just a swing of his staff, everywhere the weather had potential for it! And perhaps even in populated regions, where the citizens weren't even used to really thick snow! Why, maybe one pretty day, he could eventually cause blizzards in Egypt! Or anywhere else he felt like, without having the laws of nature being in his way! He wasn't totally ignorant towards the laws, but he didn't mind fiddling and interfering with them once in awhile. Joking around and playing daring games with humans and their everyday lives, was one of his specialties!

Tough Jack's main talent, was his passion in providing children with endless amounts of joy and fun. And he dearly wished, that he could serve as many children as possible around the world, so they could experience the bliss of a dazzling, white winter!

The boy was very ambitious and confident in his abilities.

This was the answer he had waited 300 years for.

The answer of his very purpose in life.

He was happy.

Yes, he was happy now, he told himself every day.

His dark, past life of pain and depression was finally over.

This was a new, bright and glorious era of his life!

Alas, when the winter tide had ended, the rest of the seasons weren't as energetic and gleeful for the Spirit of Winter. With exception to occasional visits to the few, coldest inhabited areas of the world to make it snow, and more regular travels to the southern hemisphere to bring forth the winter, Jack had much more free time over. At times, it could get really awfully boring, having so little to do.

The other Guardians constantly had job to achieve and maintain. Especially Sandy and Tooth, who had to work every night, which didn't leave much time over for him to come and pay them a visit. North and Bunny had some more spare time.

A few times he had stopped by at North's workshop, helping the jolly and giant man to invent new toys. North was very compassionate, kind and fond of Jack, often asking him how it went with gaining new believers. And indeed, he was very glad and proud to hear that the boy continuously made great progress. So much, that North sometimes gave Jack such friendly, but very sturdy and masculine pats on the shoulder, that the Guardian almost fell over headfirst onto the floor! Gee, the first time, Jack wasn't even prepared at all for the incoming Macho-Hand-Palm-Strike-of-Dignity-and-Care, as the pat on his shoulder blade forcefully tossed his lithe body down like a rag doll, making him hit the floor with an audible thud. That time he hurt his chin pretty bad, and North had reacted by vastly apologizing, and handing over a cup of eggnog, not that Jack got particularly pissed by the incident anyway.

Santa Claus was a good-hearted man, and Jack even felt he was somewhat like a father figure to him. And that was great, as it made him feel... closer to the human life style.

The Guardian Jack surprisingly spent most time with was the Easter Bunny. Ever since the Blizzard of 68, there had been a tense and perpetual rivalry between the two of them. Sure, the rivalry had toned down strikingly since Jack became a Guardian, but that didn't hide the fact that they were both competitive and hot tempered. Well, the Guardian who was the most temperamental, was without doubt Bunnymund. And Jack liked to tease and get on his nerves, to see how much he could stretch the overgrown, rodent Aussie's patience and moody behavior. Odd but true, teasing and getting on each other's nerves became like a part of their friendship; if you could call it that. He didn't know how Bunny truly viewed him, but Jack regarded that cocky, stupid kangaroo as his friend.

Bunny utilized most of his time inside the Warren, methodically planning ahead for the next Easter. Though every now and then, he would come out of his vivid, evergreen and floral nest, to examine if he sensed any heavy dangers that could be a threat to the world. Jack liked to race with him whenever he was outside the Warren, taunting him with the indication that he was faster.

Albeit, he didn't know how to get to the Warren without the help of Bunny's rabbit holes, and that had remained a mystery to him. If he knew, he would've gladly visited the Warren for sure!

Unfortunately, the other Guardians' duties still took up too much time, to regularly take a pause for some company, not that Jack minded so much. He was just bored. However, he greatly appreciated the interactions he could obtain every now and then. Before his fellowship with the Guardians, no spirits had ever offered him a chance to socialize with them. The Guardians were not only his allies, but also his friends. Not the closest friends, but he did feel a strong affinity with them. They accepted and acknowledged his existence. It was nice, very nice...

Their bond filled his dark hole of loneliness, making him feel valuable and needed.

Still, for some reason... that hole of loneliness hadn't yet got filled and vanished completely, as weird as it sounded.

Jack couldn't precisely point out why, but despite being a Guardian...

Despite being admired and believed in by thousands of children, believers that only increased with each passing day, as his powers grew stronger...

And despite all the glory and happiness of becoming the Guardian of Fun, the boy yearned for... something more...

He still longed... He still craved for a family.

It was the cause, that he had invested 300 years of his life observing the humanity.

Trying to arrange the Guardians into a family, would be outright awkward and ridiculous. None of them had time for that! It just wouldn't fit. They didn't have that kind of relationship. They were companions and friends, and that was it.

Jack thought, that he would never be able to consider anyone truthfully as his family, only as a friend. The main reason that he yearned for a family, was because of the infinite amounts of love and affection, that he had seen the humans have with their relatives.

It was beautiful.

But in the end, this hole would never completely get healed and dissolve, Jack assured himself. The only thing he could do now was to live on with this ache, but he would be competent to take it. He had suffered extensively worse and longer in the past. So much worse...

But it was over now. So even though this was a new and fantastic epoch of his life, he would just have to deal with the pain, and embrace what he had.

Yes, he was thankful. So thankful...

But still...

No... He was happy!

Yes, happy!

And his only option was to just accept it, that he simply couldn't get everything he wanted in life. He just had to suck it up. Deal with it.

But still...

Still...

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><p>There was one lonesome spirit... one that Jack spent a lot of time musing about, when it wasn't winter time, and when he didn't socialize with the other Guardians. And that was the one, individual spirit of the embodiment and foundation of fear...<p>

It was Pitch Black.

Jack tried... he really forced himself to his limit, to not think about the King of Nightmares. Because wasn't right!

_"Pitch is __evil__!"_ He repeatedly told himself. _"He had tried to take over the world, and infuse it with so much fear and despair, as the dark ages had possessed! He's evil! Evil! Evil! Evil!_

_He had kidnapped Tooth's mini fairies, and stole her teeth! _

_He had temporarily, but like a damned and bloodthirsty tyrant killed Sandy! _

_He had destroyed all the eggs, and ruined Bunny's Easter! _

_He'd made it appear like I had traded Baby Tooth for my precious memories! _

_And then he had __dared__ to try and tempt me, and persuade me to join him, like the fucking __arse__ he truly is! _

_And there are so many fucking more things he did a-a-and... and...!"_

And yet... when Jack closed his eyes, he could hear Pitch's smooth but deeply mourning voice echo through his mind, as he clearly pictured the incident in Antarctica. How vulnerable, and exposed his entire facial expressions and body language had appeared... and how it matched with his voice... and how it made him look... so shattered and abandoned.

Like a scream for help.

A pure scream of agony, just as desperate as Jack himself, yearning for the very same thing he wanted in life. At that moment, in the dull and desolated ice of the South Pole, when he looked Pitch right in the eyes... he could see a piece of himself, that he'd never seen in anyone before... ever.

Like a sharp fragment of a broken mirror, starring right back at himself in the reflection.

Reflecting the same suffering.

Both Jack and Pitch were somewhat like... broken mirrors, reflecting each other's depression and misery.

It was breathtaking, and rather... intimidating, getting displayed to such a tremendously peculiar incident.

Jack had felt so weak...

And why, in that instant did it have to be Pitch, who just had to come and touch his soul in that way, in his poorest condition?!

Why did it have to be Pitch, out of all god damn living entities?!

Why was it Pitch, who just felt the need to manifest his grief to him, in a moment when he just for once in his life wanted to be alone?!

Loneliness.

Pain.

Suffering.

Darkness.

Why...? Why was it Pitch, who just happened to reflect it all back at him?

Jack's life, 300 years of it all... 300 years, spinning and flickering through his mind, in a moment of a split second's reprise.

_"NO?! I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE CAST OUT?! _

_To not be believed in?! To long for... a family!_

_All those years in the shadows, I thought, no one else knows what this feels like... _

_But now I see I was wrong."_

What Jack didn't comprehend entirely, was that he felt a soft press of aching guilt and distress inside his chest, every time when he recalled how Pitch went on.

The voice of the Nightmare King had been so silky and soft.

No one had ever addressed him with a such tone before.

Gently fondling his heart, soothing... smooth... so smooth... too smooth...

_"We don't __have__ to be alone, Jack. _

_I__ believe in you, and I __know__ children will too..."_

Jack had endured three whole centuries of loneliness... and when he questioned himself how old Pitch actually was, he came to the realization that the Boogeyman had consumed so horribly much more time, than his own age in the shadows.

They had both lived in the dark, unseen and unwanted.

And all those nights when Jack had cried his heart out, despondent and wrecked, sitting silent with his thin legs close to his body, and his head resting heavy as lead on his knees...

When he looked up at the moon, praying for dear life, for an answer or a hint, that would never seem to be told...

He wondered how much longer Pitch had suffered, this agonizing pain called loneliness.

Had it forever been the same for the King of Nightmares? Had he ever throughout his extremely long life span, spent at least a brief period of time with someone else by his side? Just anyone...?

But what Pitch did was wrong! And he was nothing like Pitch, by all means... was he?!

NO! Not at all!

Their powers when they had attacked each other; Jack's keen ice bolts and Pitch's dark nightmare sand had collided into an enormous, ravishing and beautiful sculpture. It was curved, and had an elegant contrast between sooty black and aqua blue. And with its threatening, sharp ends pointing out of the concave side, it appeared both mesmerizing and dangerous.

Cold and dark were by all means truly powerful and splendid together, Jack knew that. And just the idea of what he and Pitch would be able turn the world into, made him frown and cringe in distaste. It was an idea that Pitch had wanted to fulfill with him. Jack found it scary, that if Pitch hadn't went overboard, by unmasking his true, aggressive nature and wicked hunger for great power, but instead continued playing with his psyche and emotions, perhaps he could've convinced him. Maybe.

_"And Jack Frost, too. They'll believe in both of us."_

_"No they'll __fear__ both of us, and that's not what I want. _

_Now for the last time, leave me alone!"_

No, that's not what Jack wanted... to be feared.

But he didn't want to be alone.

However, loneliness was the pain he did no longer suffer!

Well, not as much as before he became the Guardian of Fun...

No! He did not suffer anymore!

_"It's all over!"_ He used to tell himself, over and over, printing it into his mind.

No more suffering. It's all over.

Pitch had then abruptly turned the whole situation to his own benefit, as he threatened to kill Baby Tooth, and Jack was forced to give over his staff to him. Jack thought it was incredibly offensive and low of the Nightmare King, to blackmail and take advantage of him with an innocent life. And then when the staff had been handed over, Pitch was smug and bitter, and refused to let her go.

_"You said you wanted to be alone. So __be __alone__!"_

Pitch had growled with a harsh, stinging and gelid voice. But the silvery-golden eyes of the mighty Nightmare King revealed that he was hurt, and raging with revenge! It was like Jack only had two options, and if he chose rejection, in which he did, he deserved to be brutally punished. He did not think the penalty was right; it definitely wasn't! Witnessing Baby Tooth getting thrown away into the crevice, and his staff breaking in half, it was absolutely devastating and cruel! And getting smashed and knocked into the same abyss himself also hurt damn well!

It was so much trauma at all once, and Jack had constrained himself to the maximum, to not break down and lose his mind! He had learned to domesticate his sanity and psyche for ages, and when he saw what true, vile face the Nightmare King really held, he had to stay strong!

Although, he understood that Pitch had been yearning for any type of company, just like himself. And Jack had lit a small, but brightly burning light of hope in Pitch, that maybe, he could've finally had someone by his side. Someone to outright see him, and accept him for who he is, and his whole existence.

What could Jack have done then?

Nothing. Because in the end, it was all vicious and filthy blackmailing.

When his memories had been eventually revealed to him, as he'd been sitting with Baby Tooth in the crevice, he had realized why he was chosen to be a Guardian, and that it was his destiny to defeat Pitch. And after a tough and violent fight against the King of Nightmares, Jack and the Guardians succeeded in stopping him, ending his evil actions and intentions.

Because Pitch was evil_._

An evil monster, and nothing else.

But one specific memory was burn marked into his mind, refusing to leave...

Out of all memories Jack had of Pitch, it was that specific flashback he could remember so gleaming and crystal clear, like it had happened yesterday. It really bothered him how often and easily the memory slipped through his mind, whenever he was calm, resting and wasn't up for something.

_"Looks like it's __your__ fear they smell."_

When Jack declared those few words, he hadn't expected what of would come up next...

No, certainly not as brutal and cold-blooded...

As the nightmares chased Pitch on the pond and dragged him down to his lair, while he was screaming like a maniac, panicking and resisting for dear life, Jack had for an instant felt a very painful twitch in his stomach. The whole scene in front of him had been truly appalling and tragic!

But why? Didn't Pitch get the punishment he so rightfully deserved?!

While it's said that _"what goes around comes around"_,Jack still felt that what had happened to Pitch wasn't right, and he often pondered what the nightmares did to him down there. What if they tortured him without mercy? Maybe they filled his mind with endless and hideous fear, breaking his dark soul into even more pieces! Jack thought that it would've been better for him to get eternally imprisoned, rather than being tormented by such malevolent creatures as the nightmares!

On the other hand, they were Pitch's own creations, so shouldn't he be able to stop them if they went too far? Didn't he in the end only have himself to blame? But how much of his own were they? Since the inky sand the nightmares were made of was formerly Sandy's good dream sand...

Yet, Pitch must've learned to tame his handcraft properly, before heading on proclaiming war with the Big Four!

_"Maybe I want what you have; to be __believed__ in. Maybe I'm tired of hiding under beds!"_

Loneliness, being invisible, rejected, and not believed in.

Both he and Pitch had experienced it. But they used different methods to carry out their goals, and that was what distinguished them apart from one another. That was the only thing he and Pitch had in common, he affirmed himself.

Jack didn't tell the Guardians, or anyone else, that he spent much time thinking about Pitch. Because he didn't want to behold the shock and anger it would cause them. He knew it wasn't appropriate and morally right, for him to feel empathy for his enemy. But he honestly couldn't help it.

And he couldn't stop questioning himself, over and over again... if there was something more hiding underneath the facade of his enemy, other than just shadows, darkness and fear.

Oh, Jack had no idea, what the future would bring to him...

Like a sharp fragment of a broken mirror, starring back at himself in the reflection.

Reflecting the same suffering.

* * *

><p><em>We all carry out our facade... but few, if anyone, can manage to break through.<em>

_Break through, and see the whole reflection of the person, inside and out._

_And as you do... what will __you__ do?_

_Will you break the fragments into more pieces, then throw them away like trash?_

_Or will you pick up the fragments, put them together, repair the mirror and embrace it's beauty, despite all the cracks in the reflection?_

_You can throw away an actual mirror._

_But what are you willing to do, for an actual living person?_

_And how far are you willing to go for them?_

_How far are you willing to stand up for them, and reaching out with your heart on your sleeve?_

_Are you willing to cross your heart and... love them?_

_Will you be able to love them inside and out, with a burning fire that never fades?_

_Too scared?_

_Overcome the fear, and step out in the light._

_Take them with you._

_Save them from the darkness._

_This is the story of an epic adventure, and a war between the good and evil._

_This is the story of how Jack's and Pitch's path got tied together._

_This is the story of how it would change them._

_Forever._

* * *

><p>More than three and a half years had passed since Pitch's defeat, and Jack was playfully flying through the wind, up in between the flocculent, white clouds, and onward to Scandinavia. It was the end of October, and he looked forward to the winter that would soon arrive.<p>

Today, he felt like causing some mischief, by giving Sweden an early welcome to the first snow. With a wide, youthful smile on his lips, he dived through Stockholm, zig-zagging around the trees and the buildings, and relishing the surprised and happy faces it gave the children. It wasn't enough snow to make any snow angels and snow men; it was just like a thin layer of flour on the ground. But the kids were still very grateful and ecstatic for the snow, and Jack snickered when he witnessed a small group of them bouncing up and down in glee and admirance, sticking their tongues out, and trying to catch snowflakes with their mouths.

The misty autumn sky possessed gloomy shades of grays, and the leaves on the trees and on the ground were brown and with decay. So the white snow definitely made the somber environment far more cozy and fine. Even the adults seemed to appreciate it. Many people began to smile and seem a little happier, thanks to the first, early snow.

When the night came, Jack had already provided snowfall in several cities around Scandinavia. He stood in a relaxed position on a tall, copper brown building in Oslo, and took a moment to observe his creation; from near, to afar in the horizon, where it was still snowing. A dusky night was always prettier when it snowed, and the humans would most likely wake up tomorrow morning with a coat of snow still covering the ground.

Very satisfied with himself, he smiled and made a nod of approval, then called on the wind and flew back home to Burgess.

It was evening when he returned to his home town, and people were getting ready to go to sleep. The Sandman would appear soon, to deliver his sweet dreams.

All of a sudden, Jack saw something dark and glimmering flashing through the wind at north-east, heading towards the forest. It caught his attention, as his posture got stiff, and he frowned in confusion. Something wasn't right. As he began to speed up, he managed to catch up with it, and he recognized what the creature truly was...

It had the form of a willowy horse, and was made out of fine, shimmering, black sand, with the same substance weaving in sleek tendrils behind it. And its eyes were glowing in a fiery orange...

Yes, that was a nightmare for sure! What a huge surprise!

But what was she doing outside all by herself, and where was she planning to go? There were obviously no people who lived in the forest, whom she could give a bad dream to. And he hadn't seen a nightmare, since the defeat of the Nightmare King.

Curiosity, but also alarm awakened in Jack, as he followed the floating, galloping, black sand horse. The majestic nightmare ran a long trip, only getting further away from Burgess, and she didn't seem to mind Jack trailing behind. She had for a moment while running, once turned her head to the side, and took notice of his presence twenty feet behind her. But her reaction to him was total indifference, showing no concern whatsoever, as she exhaled a low snort, and swiftly turned her head forth again.

If the mare would do any harm, terror or vandalism, Jack was ready to attack, clenching his staff tightly in his hand. He felt his heart beating a little harder, like a rhythmic drum, because of the thrill. His eyes narrowed, and he pressed his lips firmly shut together. Jack was determined of this cause, and he would not lose sight of the horse.

If Pitch was up to something, he would stop him! That bloody tyrant would not get a chance to cause any harm! And the Guardians of Fun prepared himself for the worst.

Then the nightmare finally slowed down a little, to proceed flying into a massive, pointy and dark cave in the eerie and murky forest. Jack arrived a moment later, landing on the ground steadily with feet first, and began to hesitate, as he seriously regarded the cave opening a few feet in front of him.

What if this cave led to Pitch's lair? An another passageway, other than the pit in the ground with a bed frame, that had closed since Pitch had been forced down. The boy lowered his head, closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his hand on his forehead in frustration, and swallowing down the lump of anxiety in his throat.

This had probably not been such a good idea to begin with. What if the nightmares just gave humans and spirits some bad dreams once in awhile, but never caused any real harm? Yes, maybe it was better to just leave them alone. Yet still keep an eye out...

What should he do?

A horrendous scream was suddenly heard in the distance within the cavern. Jack opened his eyes and made a twitch in shock, and a loud gasp escaped his lips.

T-that scream...!

No, not just one scream, but many, and they didn't stop! They only got louder... and louder... and he could now hear the voice pleading between breathless and exhausted weeps and whimpers, berserk and desperate for release.

"P-PLEASE! I BEG YOU MERCY! I-I-I CAN'T... I CAN'T TAKE IT A-ANYMORE! PLEASE! PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE! N-NO MORE! PLEASE NO MORE!"

That familiar voice... he could now identify it.

The voice belonged to Pitch Black.

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><p><strong>((To be continued...))<strong>

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><p>Hello. My name's Anny, I'm a young woman from Sweden, and this is my very first fanfiction.<p>

I started writing on this fic back in April 2013, making up to four chapters. However, by the beginning of 2014, I decided to delete the old version, and start all over again, because I felt there was so much details missing in these chapters. I simply didn't feel satisfied enough with my writing, so it was good to start again, fresh.

The story will mainly be written from Jack's point of view, though occasionally it will also be from Pitch's POV as well. This is a slow build and slow burn written story, which means it will take some time for Jack and Pitch to form a relationship, and get closer to one another. I hope you like it so far.

For every chapter I will recommend two songs, that inspired me while writing. So here we go! The two songs that inspired me when writing this chapters are:

Revelry by Emilie Autumn

Beware of Darkness (cover) by Concrete Blonde

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><p><strong>(- January 13th, 2014.)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: A Call of Crisis!**

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><p><strong>Trigger warning:<strong> Violence and abuse.

Read at your own risk.

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><p>Jack had no time to lose. He couldn't just stand there and listen! That would <span>not<span> be the right thing to do! Something had to be done! NOW!

But how?!

"Th-Think, Jack! Think! Think! THINK!" The boy hissed, harshly inhaling the cool air, as his voice divulged an obvious panic and fluster. These feelings were starting to blend together with his growing frustration, over this flat out unbelievable situation, occurring right at this very moment. And this odd experience, of all these poignant and turbulent emotions, made it hard for him to cogitate properly. The immense confusion, fear and anxiety, whirling and swelling up inside of him, were just too much to handle!

Jack reached out his left hand to the back of his head, tugging his hair roughly in desperation for focus, and forced his eyes shut, while gritting his teeth. Every muscle in his body tensed, and the stress began to play wild and foul pranks on his sense of balance, causing the surrounding murky forest to spin around him wickedly, like a hurricane.

It was chaos within his mind... but still, with all of his might he achieved grasping a thin, yet durable string of self control, to gather up and arrange a messy bundle of notions and thoughts.

If he would turn away and evade the scene, the guilt of not taking action would persecute him for an eternity. He just knew it! And the remorse would be as haunting as those obnoxious screams, without a single, little drop of mercy.

Justice had always, for as long as the Spirit of Winter could recall, been one of his strongest priorities in life. His unquenchable, devoted bravery to strive for what was right! Heroism consumed him to the bones, and even in his darkest fears, a tiny, tiny... microscopic, yet bright flame of courage kept him burning, alive and fighting!

True, throughout the darkest and most harrowing times of his life, he had pushed it aside, and retreated to the misery with pure, youthful and innocent fun. But he would never give up; at least not completely. And in acute occasions, when he was provided with severe misery and despair, he would do anything in his authority to make a change of the situation.

Yes... Jack could not escape this.

This was a call of crisis!

Fleeing was wrong, and opposed his own morals.

But would it be right, to save his... his enemy...?

Jack's heart proceeded to beat even harder inside his chest. The screams, possessing such agony and hysteria were ringing through his ears, and into his head and psyche. It was unavoidable, like a war siren. Parting his lips, he inhaled the air into his lungs, filling them up, and tilted his head up towards the sky and the treetops, while holding his breath...

And that's when one word... that single, yet strong word, that had kept him alive for 300 years began to roar and echo within his head, bringing him back to the reality and present.

_"Fight..._

_F-Fight... _

_Fight...!_

_Fight!_

_Fight!_

_Fight!_

_FIGHT!_

_FIGHT!_

_FIGHT!"_

Clutching his staff in his right hand, his emotional state evoked his fist to suddenly spark with a vital, icy blue light, gleaming through his fingers. Like electricity, the radiance flowed like a current through the staff, causing shimmering frost to cover it entirely. The magical procedure took only a few seconds, and as the illumination faded and disappeared, Jack slowly breathed out, letting go of the tight grip in his hair, and opened his eyes.

The Guardian of Fun had now made up his mind.

It was so obvious... the answer was clear as glass.

To fight... and to save.

Nobody...

No one deserved to get terrorized, no matter what crimes and sins one may have committed!

And Pitch did not deserve this!

Containing all his fortitude, he dashed into the opening of the cave, and full of determination, he began to follow the sound of the voice. The cavern became steep, and soon Jack was underground, inside a lair that was bigger than he had ever imagined. Tunnels, stairs and rooms composed into a considerably huge labyrinth, making it rather difficult to find the destination of the voice. He could detect husky sobs and broken whimpers, among words pleading for mercy and release, and he couldn't help but feeling sad and perturbed for Pitch.

It... It began to sting a little inside his chest.

Was... Was it remorse...?

No... No! No regrets!

It was indeed Pitch's own fault, his own vanity and gutlessness, to stand up and take the payback to his own felonies. That was what had caused him to get dragged down by his own minions. And Jack considered that to be a decent punishment.

But not this; getting tortured was not an appropriate act of justice. Not even for a low-life, atrocious spirit like Pitch. Jack would just rescue him, then leave immediately.

This was nothing personal, he told himself; just plain and simple, righteous morality.

After flying around in the lair in various directions, almost getting lost in alleys, tunnels and dead-ends, he managed to get on the right path. Since the voice was echoing, it had been a quite puzzling task to find a valid track. But now he perceived the voice growing more defined, as he knew he was coming closer. And his eyes had by now accustomed to the tenebrous and dusty surroundings. Here and there, rays of dim light traced down from the tall and shady ceilings. It was obscure, but enough to relieve the environment from being altogether pitch-black...

"Pitch..." Jack murmured, not comprehending why he kept his own voice down. It would've made more sense to call out the Nightmare King's name, and hope for any kind of retort.

Though perhaps it would turn the situation to the worse, he meditated. Either the batterer would maltreat Pitch even further, as a grim penalty for assuming he had brought someone to come rescue him, or the scoundrel would retreat from their victim, induce an ambush, and charge Jack from behind.

Yes, he wanted to reassure himself that he held the control, having a step ahead to forecast the scenario. It wasn't the right time to encounter bad consequences. Just reflecting about it all was terrifying. He frowned, thinking that either way, this was all bizarre, of him rushing to his enemy's rescue. Then again, there was no way he would quit and abscond now, as he'd encouraged himself that he was strong enough for this battle.

Yet... maybe it wasn't a person or spirit who tormented Pitch.

Maybe it was the nightmares?

Because who else would want to interfere with Pitch, except his subordinates?

Maybe the mares had gone crazy, for whatever reason Jack could not understand?

Or... maybe it was the King of Nightmares himself, who'd lost his mind...?

Jack abruptly halted for a moment, turned his head to the left, and hearing the voice looming from slightly above, he sensed he was almost there. He took notice of an archaic and shabby winding staircase, and flew up along it. The suspense, and the dangers that might come next, were causing his stomach ache with alarm.

On the second floor to the right, there was a long and tedious corridor without any light source. But to the left there happened to be a wall, and a little bit away from it revealed a wide and high arch. Unsure how to proceed his next move, the boy sneaked up to the wall and placed his back against it. Walking slowly on his tip toes, he went over to stand right beside the gap, and cautiously peeked over the opening, clenching his staff, just to prepare himself if there would be a sudden surprise attack.

And right there on the floor, just a few meters away from him... in the middle of an oval chamber with gray stone walls, he could now behold the King of Nightmares, in profile, kneeling with his head down in front of an extraordinary nightmare, vastly different from the others. Jack's heart skipped a beat, and his eyes widened in pure shock, as he covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a gasp. His body tensed, and he couldn't move a single limb...!

What made this nightmare stand out was its appearance; it had the form of a human... a little girl! Yet her whole presence was still eerie, and he could sense that she was menacing and parlous, despite being... a child.

Or was she...?

Really...?

This was all so... incredible!

Jack squinted and eyed her from top to toe with precision, memorizing her appearance. The little girl had long, thick, wavy hair reaching the end of her back, and the wild curls were accompanied with a soft, oval face. She wore an ankle long, simple yet elegant dress, with loosely fitting full sleeves. But no shoes; all bare foot. Two other details of her dress, were a thin waistband, tied in a neat bow behind her back, and a tight, high cut collar. Her body and clothing were all over black, with exception from her vibrant, orange eyes, just like the other nightmares, as she seemed to be made out of the same glimmering sand.

In fact, she had a company with her; a dozen of other nightmares, forming a circle around the scene. Their eyes were full of blood thirst, staring intently at the girl and their former master; a weak man who was down on all fours, wailing in pain, and shuddering in terror in front of her. Some of the horses were snorting in a pugnacious and aggressive manner, while others were impatiently waving their head, like they were holding back, and waiting for something to come.

The Nightmare Girl regarded the Boogeyman's wretched form with her glowing eyes; a piercing glare full of pure contempt and hatred. Her smile was cruel and hostile... and outright evil! In her hands, she held a scythe over Pitch's head, the very point of it touching his neck. The sharp tip seemed to split up a wound on his nape, like a small cut, and out from it steamed a compact, inky smoke, which took the shape of thin tendrils, forming around and getting absorbed into the weapon. Its design was equivalent to Pitch's scythe, but smaller in size. Jack could verify by the sight of it, that the height of the weapon was as tall as the young woman herself.

It was both peculiar and disturbing to watch.

The Winter Spirit felt greatly bewildered and astonished of everything he had observed this evening.

Why was all this happening to Pitch?

Who was that girl, and why had the nightmares betrayed him?

Why were they joining an alliance with her?

What was she doing to him, and why?

What was the meaning of all this?

And... why had Jack not stepped in yet?

An enormous pile of questions floated up to the surface of his mind... but he decided to momentarily keep his brainstorming low, reserving his wild speculations for later. However, he could answer one of the riddles on top of his head; the reason he hadn't sprinted in the very instant he'd witnessed all this, was due to how the shock and fright had overwhelmed him, and thus made him paralyzed. This numbness had fortunately not lasted for longer than a minute or two, and with the stiffness fading from his body, thoughts of the next move emerged.

The girl withdrew her scythe a few inches from Pitch's neck, which educed a keen and rueful screech to escape the older man's lips. He seemed to have barely any stamina left, as his quivering, slim arms and legs could no longer support his posture, causing him to hit the frame of his body onto the cold stone floor. His hair was shaggy, and in profile it covered the vision of his eyes and forehead. But the loud sobs leaking out from his mouth made Jack acknowledge that Pitch was crying.

The girl tilted her head to the side and chuckled, manifesting a joy over her domination of this lonely and tragic spirit exposed in front of her.

"My, my, it seems I'll never grow tired of this; the mere entertainment that is, of feeding off your fear." The Nightmare Girl avowed with a low, raucous and ghoulish voice.

Hearing her voice sent a dreadful shiver through Jack's body, making him cringe and twist his face in true abhorrence. It was so intimidating!

So cold, and so dark...

Not dark in its vocal tone... but wielding such... darkness... like she was born in it.

Born in hell and darkness, never acquiring a chance of warming sunlight into her soul... if she even had one.

And... feeding off his fear... so that was what the girl abused Pitch for.

Maybe his fear was her fuel of survival, or to gain power.

But why?

A few seconds of silence passed by, then a frail noise was heard from older male, who had covered his arms around his face, becoming a prey in a trembling mess of fear.

"P-P-Please... Please... I-I'm so sorry... I'm so s-sorry... Please... P-Please l-let me go..." He begged, almost whispering out the words. In the dire condition he was in, it was no surprise that he was struggling to form sentences, let alone to speak.

An antique, bronze candle stick holder hung in the high ceiling above Pitch's back. The candles were lit, and offered the room a warm light. But the chamber itself was overall bitterly chilly and empty. It was quite dark in there, but just enough light for Jack being able to gaze upon Pitch's skin, in which he realized he was much paler than before; almost bone white, with just a slight tint left of gray left.

He looked nothing like the former King of Nightmares, but more like a shade of what had been lost.

The sympathy and fright inside Jack melted... and replaced was an anger, that began to boil up in his gut and rush through his veins, the heat expanding through his whole body. He was at the edge of losing control! It was now or never! He would daunt the girl, rip out her pride from that petite body, and make her wish she had never, ever oppressed someone so recklessly! Jack would count to three, then break in and stop her, bracing himself by leaning his back forward, getting into a belligerent position, ready to combat.

A horrific laugh cracked out from the girl, and she raised her scythe up a few more feet over Pitch's neck. She was mad! The scene triggered the nightmares into a hectic and warlike demeanor, with loud neighs and hooves clattering violently onto the floor.

"I'M NOT GONNA STOP NOW! NOT WHEN WE'RE HAVING SUCH A NICE TIME, FATHER!" The girl screamed, wearing the most lunatic and murderous face Jack had ever seen.

THAT'S IT!

Without a second thought or even counting to three, Jack bolted into the chamber and swung his staff with all of his strength. The girl was just a blink away from once again shoving her scythe into Pitch's neck, when a powerful blaze of ice was shot at her weapon, causing her to lose the grip. Startled, the girl turned her face to the side, and with a baffled expression, she saw Jack Frost standing right next to her.

Jack stood with one foot in front of the other, sturdy pressing his staff against the girl's throat, and his other hand had a solid grip around her left shoulder. The scythe hit the wall behind them and dissolved into plain nightmare sand, and then just as quickly vanished into the shadows.

Leaning over to face the girl in eye level, he glared into her eyes.

"Let. Him. Go." Jack ordered, breathing in and out between each word, his tone full of wrath.

The room fell silent for a moment, of the Spirit of Winter and the Nightmare Girl staring into the very depths of each others' eyes.

Only staring...

Her sight was bright and burning like fire... Jack could not see the soul of a girl hiding beneath those eyes.

No... he could not see any goodness at all...!

What heck was wrong with her?!

Despite her physical appearance... how could she possibly be a child?!

Eventually, an imperious grin began to spread on the girl's lips.

"Hmph. Very well, my naive little gentleman." She giggled scornfully. The girl took a step back and another to the left, pulling Jack's hand off her shoulder, and turned to face Pitch. Her grin ceased and got replaced by a deadpan expression, as she spoke down to the older man in a monotone voice.

"I'll see you again, old man.

You can't kill fear, and you never will.

What's left of you, is for me to take.

This, father, will go on forever.

Until death tear you apart."

And just when she had finished her speech, her form diffused into a cloud of dusky nightmare sand, that floated to the end of the room behind Jack. He turned his head and looked as the sand evanesced into its shadows. The other mares trailed behind and accompanied her, and a moment later, it was just Jack and Pitch left in the chamber.

Jack turned his head back to Pitch, feeling lost of what to do next. He couldn't leave already... right? He had to make a check that he was alright. The Guardian crouched down in front of Pitch and examined him. Carefully, Jack reached out and placed two fingers on his neck, right under his sharp jaw line.

Well... Pitch was still alive; his pulse was low, but his heart still pounding. But how bad was he hurt? Jack removed his fingers and let his hand travel to his right shoulder, putting it down gently.

"P-... Pitch?" He managed to utter. "Pitch, can you hear me?"

No reply. Jack swallowed, and progressed by lightly shaking his grip on around the shoulder, calling out his name just a tad bit louder.

"Pitch? Pitch? Wake up... It's me, Jack... You're safe now. She's gone... I... I won't let her hurt you. You're safe... Pitch...?"

Finally, Pitch leisurely moved his arms away from his face, and carefully got up to stand on all fours, his head still hanging low.

"Pitch... what hap-"

Strong hands were suddenly wrapped around Jack's neck, making him gag and desperately struggling to gasp for air he couldn't access. Pitch threw his body over and tackled him, and straddling the boy's thin hips, he held Jack's throat in a tight iron grip, refusing to let go. Jack's heart was throbbing hard and fast, and the panic for air made him shake violently, fighting to knock Pitch off and get free. His own hands were clawing ferociously on top of the older man's hands, knuckles whitening as he fought for his life.

But Pitch was TOO STRONG! Jack's eyes watered and spilled over into thick teardrops, rolling down in streams against his temples. The horror was driving him crazy!

HELP! HELP! HELP! HE NEEDED TO BREATH! NOW!

The King of Nightmares bent over Jack, just a few inches away from his face, and stared right into the boy's blue, wide open eyes. It was narrow glare filled with total outrage and disgust. His own golden eyes were reflected in the light from the candles above them.

Pitch opened his mouth, and hissed his name through tightly shut teeth.

"Jackson Overland Frost..."

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><p><strong>((To be continued...))<strong>

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><p>This chapter is shorter than the first one. The reason as to why, is because I came to the realization that I can hold a better control and overview of my story, if the chapters aren't that long. So I will try to keep the chapters between 3-5k from now on. Maybe sometimes it'll be longer, or shorter, but anyway, that is what I aim for. The next chapter will involve more dialogue! And the story will begin to form its plot more further.<p>

Here are two songs that inspired me while writing this chapter:

4 O'clock Reprise by Emilie Autumn

Only Happy When It Rains by Garbage

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><p><strong>(- March 26th, 2014.)<strong>


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